Insanity Loves Company MA18
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: Oneshot. Azkabanfic. Extremely graphic. Ma ! Harry is chucked into Azkaban, six years later he's ready to escape and exact his revenge in the form of a bloodbath against those who betrayed him. Look out world, vengeance walks and is insane, powerful and has the blessings of the Gods.


:**Insanity Loves Company**:

Footsteps echoed through the halls of the ministry, in time to a rattling heart and shaky breath.

Thud. Thud.

Two pair of feet drum the ground with military precision, the third dragged behind them, a mixture of steps and swishes upon carpet floors.

Thud. Thud.

The halls are dark and echoey, shadows lingering in every corner, the one light source came from the Chamber in front of them.

Thud. Thud.

The Guards tugged on the prisoners arms, pulling him upright and forcing him to walk, flittering compassion and mercy upon their stoic faces.

Thud. Thud.

Noise rattled around them as they drew nearer, smatterings of loud abrasive conversation swirled through the corridor, and the prisoner allowed a small mirthless smile grace his lips.

Thud. Thud.

Harry James Potter walked silently between his two guards. His face blank. His eyes unseeing. His guards held his arms tightly, their own faces equally calm. There was nothing to say, not anymore. Instead, they silently escorted him into the chamber. Towards his fate.

The chamber was a large circular room. The tiers were made of stone and had mahogany seats behind the stone desks. The Ministry officials were directly at the front and were made of wood paneling and had ministry colors arrayed along the benches. Splashes of color to decorate this farce of a trial. The tiered rows were filled with a full court, everyone who was anyone, was there. The Wizangamot with their red banners above them. The Hogwarts Staff, unmarked except by their clear, clean cut teachers robes. The International Confederation of Wizards with their purple heraldic banners upon display behind them. The Press with at least twenty reporters and assistants, cameras flashing violently, trying to capture the sight of the accused as he was led in. And of course, the audience, friends and relatives, lords and ladies, all had come to watch a mockery of justice be carried out.

Harry let the smallest of grins hover upon his lips. This would be interesting.

Blank green eyes ran over the congregation. Dumbledore had done extremely well. The past four weeks had been filled with press releases, articles and interviews that contained his trumped up charges and their excuses. Their self righteous, outraged cries of his apparent guilt had been echoed back in mimicry by the public. His so called friends were standing behind him, weeping as though they cared. Above them were the families if the victims and the victims of his victims. Which made for an odd bunch, but he could see how they would get on. After all, no there was nothing to worry about, they could rejoin in their pure-blooded têtê-a-têtê .

Strangely enough, two people who didn't believe the hype had been the two prison guards who now escorted getting to know a person often revealed the truth about him. They had been told, rather bluntly, that he was going to wall off his emotions now, he was sick of being weak, of being taken advantage of. They had given him all the help they could, feeding and watering him when they could, giving him privacy, and allowing him to bathe on average once a week. Small mercies and pleasure to be sure, but rather appreciated at the time.

Neatly straightening his rich robes and seating himself with the utmost delicacy and fastidiousness, Harry looked up at the Minister of Magic, seated upon his throne of mahogany and prejudice. A hint of a smile graced his thin lips as Harry Potter reclined elegantly in the prison chair, chains wrapped tightly around his arms, legs and body, two men flanking him like he was a rabid dog, rather than a slightly over charged magician.

Because, naturally, that was his charge. Too much power. Supernatural amount of power. Whisperings of him being the new Dark Lord had only added to the hype. Harry was certain Voldemort was rolling around in his grave laughing hysterically at the thought. Although, with that though in mind, maybe taking a leaf out of old Tom's book wasn't such a bad idea. Harry knew, if he truly wanted too, he could shred and rip apart this chamber with nary a thought. He also knew that with little effort upon his part he could kill everyone in the world with the slightest exercising of his magical potential. Black holes and rips in space were a tad _TOO_ easy to make when you had as much, if not more, magical power then Merlin.

"Harry James Potter, you are hereby charged with the unauthorized use of Dark Magic to open a portal through Space and Time and destroying the man known as Tom Marvolo Riddle and are also hereby charged with the deaths of fifty men and women who were a part of an oppositional political party. How do you plead?" Scrimgeour said stiffly, his words proper and correct, but his tone of voice indicating that he was rather close to the edge of yelling.

Harry looked up at him, smiling slightly.

"How do you _plead_, Mr. Potter?" Scrimgeour asked angrily, his face starting to turn red.

Harry continued to stare at the Minister and refused to answer.

"_Mr. Potter, how do you plead?!_" Scrimgeour yelled at Harry, his face brick red and twisted with anger.

Harry leaned backwards, still smiling, and started to pick at his fingernails, blithely unconcerned by the Minister.

The Minister scowled angrily. "_HOW DO YOU PLEAD?!_" Scrimgeour roared, spittle flying from his mouth at his words.

Harry didn't answer, he shifted in his seat and ignored the minister as the murmurings of the crowd grew louder.

Furious, but unwilling to lose further control, Scimgeour slammed his gavel down upon his desk. "Mr. Potter, you will _answer_ this court or you will be held upon charges of contempt of the court as well as the previously stated!" Scrimgeour yelled violently.

Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he was in a sauna or spa and relaxing after a hard days work. The audience behind him muttered angrily, they couldn't believe the arrogance the boy was showing. Two young men leaning in the doorway above the action were hiding smiles of amusement. One of them was Neville Longbottom, who believed in Harry's innocence. The other was Draco Malfoy, who owed a life debt and really didn't care if Harry was innocent or not and was simply enjoying the show.

There was one other man, besides Neville and the guards who believed in Harry's innocence, and that was Severus Snape, a man who was far too cynical for his own good and rather dubious of the Boy-Who-Lived's ability to actually control the power needed to kill a Dark Lord and fifty other people. And even if he did, it was so bloody impressive that it would be a true surprise, in his not so humble opinion, if Harry didn't escape within a week.

And so it was, with not a single word in defense of himself, let alone a single word spoken other wise, Harry James Potter was sentenced to a life in prison.

Calmly escorted from the chamber, Harry walked to where the Dementor's waited and didn't even struggle when he was transferred over into their care. It was more his apparent contentedness to go to Azkaban than anything else he did or said, that creeped and freaked his guards out the most. The blankness and serenity of his expression unnerved both men utterly. Even worse was when he broke his self imposed muteness.

"Cheers blokes, tell Neville, Malfoy and Snivillus to have one on me." Harry said cheerfully, as though the two dementors hanging onto his arms didn't affect him. Which they possibly didn't.

Escaping the bone cold room, terrifying creatures and even more scary prisoner, the guards double marched their way over to a tall dark and thin man accompanied by a moon faced man with brown hair and a pointy faced blonde haired man. Relaying the message, they escaped once again, this time from the sallow skinned mans homicidal rage filled face.

Once the guards had disappeared, Severus Snape bent over and howled with mad laughter. Neville raised a concerned eyebrow at his apparent departure from sanity. Draco rolled his eyes and vacated the room, utterly disinterested in the following proceedings, what had happened, had happened, and now he was going to go drink himself into a stupor. He hated the ministry.

"When he gets out, I'm going to _kill_ him." Severus said calmly, wiping his eyes, and then walking away, leaving a bemused Neville Longbottom behind. It was a bit unnerving to watch Hogwarts' most feared professor lose it completely.

* * *

Meanwhile Harry was escorted by carriage, boat and then foot to his cell. There he was thrown inside and left to, apparently, languish, preferably in silence.

Days past.

Hours turned.

Minutes ticked by.

Harry sat silently under his window. His eyes always closed. His mind never thinking. The Dementor's quickly figured out that they wouldn't get anything from the man, although that didn't mean they didn't try. Harry never moved. But that didn't stop him from knowing everything about his room.

His cell. It was six paces wide and five paces long. It was ten feet high with stone walls three feet thick. The front of the cell was faceless stone with a wooden door enforced with steel and magic. The room was featureless, it's only accompaniment was featureless grey coloration and a pile of straw the prisoner sat upon.

A year passed.

Occasionally, in the dead of the night, near silent, mad laughter came from that room.

And then another.

Mostly silence from the young man now, his mind on the edge of insanity, his mouth open in a parody of a grin, an almost chuckle escaping those twisted lips every now and then.

The wizarding world stopped thinking of their hero after three years.

The laughter began again, the young man sat in his cell, rocking and laughing; his mirth was unnerving for the auror recruits, and disconcerting for the hardened veterans.

After five they forgot about him.

In the forgotten cell, the forgotten prisoner sat under his window, his body skeletal as he rocked and silently, crazily laughed.

After six, Harry woke.

* * *

The cold of Azkaban was broken. Empty green eyes bore a hole into the wooden door of his cage. A body, unnourished but for what was remembered to be fed to him, unfolded after nearly six years of no movement. A bitter, twisted smile spread white lips into a frightening imitation of a grin.

Harry no longer was the man who had been betrayed. No the betrayal no longer hurt, he no longer cared. His mind was filled with perversions and depraved ideas of _revenge_. His heart was cold, cruel and dangerous. No longer was he particularly worried about the law or its limitations. Instead he focussed his mind upon its preferred immoral pursuits of degrading and humiliating not to mention viciously brutal deaths that he would arrange for his 'friends'.

Harry James Potter was a soulless killer. He would exact his vengeful revenge.

And _soon_.

_So, so soon_.

A grin of malicious, perverted glee twisted his lips into a mockery of joyful pleasure.

Movement, smooth like water over rocks, occurred in the forgotten cell of sector seven of the high security partition of Azkaban prison. Skeletal hands gripped the bars on the door to his cell, with the slightest of tugs, Harry pulled it free. In a shower of rock, mortar and sand, Harry was free. Striding forth, Harry summoned the keys to the other prisoners. His magical signature, wandless though it was, excited the Dementor's. Gliding with hurried movements, the foul creatures descended upon the apparently defenseless prisoner. A haunting grin stretched his lips as green eyes filled with sadistic glee. A long fingered white hand shot out and gripped the first of his attackers, pulling the creature down, Harry dragged in a magic filled breath and drew the Dementor and it's victims into his own body.

An hour passed, and Harry stood, glowing with apparent good health, in the middle of a battlefield of carnage. Twisted, blackened, and soulless bodies lay in heaps around him. Shedding his prison garments, Harry, uncaring of his nakedness, divested a nearby Dementor of its robes and slipped them on. Ignoring the burns the robes caused, and pleased beyond measure, Harry then went out and sought new prey.

It took him two hours to clear the prison of its inmates. Even less than that to play with and then kill the guards. It was saddening that an undernourished man who hadn't exercised for the past six years could take down the wizarding worlds finest. But then, Harry wasn't exactly normal, nor was his situation particularly of the standard of his school years. It just simply was what happened, he didn't bother trying got explain how it happened. Perhaps they were lacking in resources and equipment.

Shrugging off his thoughts, Harry stood on the topmost tower of Azkaban, the building below him burning with unnatural fire. Azkaban was an ugly, squat building that emanated the Dementor's cold. It was harsh and unforgiving and seemed at times more desolate than despair, more evil than the devil and far more malevolent than chaos herself. Harry loved the building, and once the ministry cleaned it up for him and removed the rubbish, he would probably return and make it his home. But for now, _revenge_. Eerie green eyes stared out to sea, and with a simple wish, Harry would appear upon the mainland.

It was easy as one, two, three... _Crack_!

* * *

The guard on duty at the receiving bay in the Guard House across the Azkaban Strait from Azkaban Prison, had a hell of a shock. It was a Monday morning, which was bad enough, but the appearance of a man, dressed in tattered black robes that emanated bone-chilling cold and were drenched in blood, appearing in front of him was a terrifying sight. The mans face was thin and desolate, his skin was drawn tightly across his bones, his eyes were burning with hellfire and with a movement quicker that the eye could see, the stranger shoved an overly thin arm through the wardens chest, lunching through the other side. In his hand was the wardens heart. A _still-beating-frantically-from-the-shock-of-meeting-someone-who-isn't-supposed-to-be-here_ heart.

Harry smiled almost gently as with a sucking sound he pulled it back through the cavity he had just created. With a rather twisted sense of humor, Harry inspected the man's heart and strangely declared him to be a man with a proclivity to eat not enough vegetables and too much saturated fats, and thus was unhealthy.

"But don't be _dis-heartened_," Harry soothed the dead man lying at his feet, chuckling at his own joke. "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

Smirking to himself, he tossed his new plaything from hand to hand as Harry made his way to the Guard House. Inside he decapitated the other man on duty and pulled out another's spine whilst he slept. Thus, no longer distracted from what truly mattered, Harry set about making himself breakfast.

Nonchalantly, Harry wrote a pleasant note to the men's supervisor, for when they arrived of course, and then exited the building and disapparated to Malfoy Manor. It would be days before anyone found the dead men.

* * *

Arriving in the sitting room, Harry surprised Draco and Neville, who were in the middle of something that no innocent child would want to see. And were being ridiculously vocal about it too. Shrugging idly, Harry vacated the room.

"Don't mind me, I'm just going to raid the kitchen, please, by all means, continue." Harry said, waving a hand negligently over his shoulder.

Draco couldn't help but let his mouth drop open in shock, regardless whether that was not something a Malfoy ever did. "_Harry?!_"

Draco's stunned sentiment was echoed loudly by Neville and both men, now twenty three years old, staggered upright and followed their newly escaped convict friend into Draco's kitchen. Harry had seated himself at the kitchen table, and was genteelly ignoring the fact that he was getting blood all over the table, counters and chairs, not to mention the floor, and set about eating all of Draco's vanilla ice cream.

"Yes." Harry agreed as his friends staggered, dumbfounded, into the kitchen. "Hello." He greeted them blandly.

Stunned both men stared at their friend. Harry was dressed in black robes that seemed to absorb the light. His green eyes were scarily empty, while still shining with hell's fire. His physique was skeletal and his skin tight across his bones, but despite this he shone with good health. If that was at all possible. And he was, for the lack of a better way to describe it, covered, from head to toe in blood.

"Hello." Neville said faintly. "How did you escape?"

Harry didn't look up, instead he licked his spoon clean with long, deliberate strokes of his overly long, and overly flexible tongue. Once he was done, he silently set it down and looked Neville in the eye. Neville dropped his own to avoid meeting the dead green orbs.

"I didn't really. After all, it's truly not a real escape if no one stops you from leaving. Nor is it a true escape when all the guards and prisoners are dead."

Neville and Draco both shuddered at Harry's insane and malevolent grin.

"Right."

Harry shrugged, seemingly disinterested once more. Standing up, he dumped the now empty ice-cream container into the sink and then raided Draco's fridge for the pizza box he knew was in there. He then set about eating his body weight in pizza, something that was more than slightly scary to watch.

"Is it just me, or do you know better than I do what is in that fridge?" Draco asked suddenly, he then preceded to slap himself on the forehead thinking that he couldn't ask a more stupid or inane question. From the look Neville shot him, he agreed.

"I'm a Seer." Harry said calmly. "I thought I told you that?" Harry turned around long enough to raise an eyebrow at the pair before returning to wolfing down the pizza while pulling out various ingredients and dishes.

"No." Neville said, feeling like he was out of his depth. Draco watched his friend with undeniable curiosity as he cooked.

After mixing several vegetables, sauces and meats together to create a new and slightly feral looking dish, Harry then pulled out a pan and drizzled oil into it.

"Excuse me, I think I'll just go get Snape." Neville said, as Harry pulled out a fresh human heart, albeit a little bit covered in lint, from his pocket and began to slice it thinly.

Harry shrugged in reply.

Draco looked a bit green as Harry began to fry the heart. "Harry, please tell me that's not _fresh_, or _human_."

Harry remained silent, and proceeded to turn the thin slices over in the pan to prevent burning or sticking.

Draco whitened. "I think I'm gonna be sick." Rushing from the room to escape the smell and sight of Harry's cooking human heart, Draco passed Severus Snape and Neville as they walked to the kitchen.

"Oh, god," Neville said suddenly, putting two and two together. Backing away from the open doorway, Neville beat a hasty retreat. "I'll leave you to deal with the canabalistic ex-convict."

Severus turned slightly green at Neville's pronouncement, entering the kitchen, Snape watched as Harry slid crispy slices of deep red meat onto a bun and cover them with tomato sauce and mustard. Harry then served up a dogs breakfast of foods onto another plate and proceeded to wolf it all down.

"Please tell me that isn't what I think it is." Snape said, pulling up a chair across from the bloodied young man across from him.

"Heart." Harry said blithely, waving the bun in the air. Snape flinched. "From a guy named Gregory Johnson." Harry shrugged blithely.

Snape winced. "Angelina Johnson's father." Snape muttered to himself, and queasily tried not to watch his previously least favorite student eat a human heart sandwich and whatever-the-hell-that-is stew.

"Hm." Harry hummed curiously, regarding the sandwich with interest. "Life's little ironies." Harry commented idly, before attacking the sandwich with gusto once more.

Snape politely beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen before he threw up his breakfast.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, absently shoveling his hotpot stew into his mouth, and wondering what was wrong with his friends. After finishing his luncheon snack, Harry washed up the dishes, humming softly to himself. After he dried and put said dishes away, because, after all, thats the polite thing to do when you're a guest, Harry then went to find his friends. He found them seated in silence and whey-faced in the sitting room.

"So, what's up?" Harry asked cheerfully as he seated his blood soaked robes onto a million galleon divan. It was a credit to his friends abilities at occlumency that they didn't flinch or react to Harry's tone of voice, nor to the fact that Harry was currently wearing about what appeared to be robes soaked in a hundreds people's life blood.

"Dumbledore's still in charge. Scrimgeour was voted out last election. Fudge is back in. Umbridge is still alive and the undersecretary. Ron and Hermione were married three years ago in may, they're expecting their second child this spring." Neville said blandly, ticking the news off on his fingers while desperately trying to ignore the trails of blood that trickled from Harry's robe arms.

"I see." Harry said rather calmly. He absently wiped away a red trail from his head, causing Draco to go another impressive shade of green again.

Snape nodded in silent agreement to whatever his thoughts were. "The Weasley's stole your money and assets, stating that as the most wronged party they should _benefit_. McGonagall died last october. Flitwick and a few others who believe in your innocence were incarcerated in Azkaban. If you want we can rescue them." Snape said all of this in his best, most acidic andscathing voice. He'd clearly been practicing.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Oops." He said guiltily, in reference to Flitwick and his little band of merry-in-Azkaban-men

Snape felt his blood run cold. "We don't need an explanation as to where that blood came from do we?" Snape asked weakly.

Harry smiled beatifically. "No."

For the first time since his escape and subsequent arrdraconian Draco's manor, his friends allowed themselves to think that Harry Potter may not have made it out of prison _completely_ sane. Despite his eating of a human heart, wearing off what appeared to be Dementor robes and currently soaked in about twenty gallons of blood, Draco, Severus and Neville each held the hope that Harry was mentally and physically okay. That he was still sane. Apparently that was not the case.

His eyes, previously blank, now glinted with more than a slight hint of insanity. His face once expressionless was now a mask of twisted and inhuman glee. Harry was the picture perfect poster boy for the mentally unhinged.

And then he stood up. His friends jumped at his sudden movement.

"Let me show you something." Harry whispered, his voice crazed but gentle.

Reaching out to them, Harry stepped forward his hands stretching out for them, the three men shied away from him skittishly.

"_Trust me_!" Harry hissed tightly, his eyes blazing.

Severus was the first to lean forward, Neville was next and Draco was last. Although that was more for the desire to keep clean than anything else. Gleefully, Harry fed his stored Dementor souls into his three friends. Severus jerked back, his back arched in a rictus of agony and pleasure. Harry felt himself weaken slightly as another soul slipped into Draco, who was soundlessly screaming. Neville was jerking around like he was attached to a puppets string.

"Do you see?" He asked, his eyes lit up with maniacal joy. "Do you feel?" He breathed, bringing his mouth close to theirs, his breath dragging across their lips.

"Yes." Came the agonized but pleased groans from three separate mouths.

In less than three minutes, Harry Potter not only helped his friends to depart from sanity, but also converted them to his way of thinking, breathing, living. They slavered and desired blood like he did, they howled for freedom as he once did in his cell, they let lose cackles of mad laughter from bared teeth and contorted lips.

In their ears, the three Greek spirits of insanity, the Maniai, whispered words of gleeful dark pleasures and revenge. Harry rolled his head back and howled with laughter, his long fingered hands gripping Severus' head to his pelvis, while Draco pressed himself to his legs and Neville stood and wrapped strong arms around him.

As they departed from reality, the gods and goddesses, Morrigan, Vali, Holler, Loki, Hades, Hecate, Eris, Nemesis, Ammit, Kuk, Nun, Sakhmet, Set and Ereshkigal leaned back and laughed. They had new worshippers, and followers. They rained praise down upon Harry and pressed kisses to his friends foreheads.

* * *

Meanwhile, hours and days passed. The bodies at Azkaban were found and the message read. '_Run, Run, Run, While You Can, I'll Catch You, It'll Be Fun!_' As the words were read by each individual, each heard cold, cruel, maniacal laughter echoing out across the rocks and sea and tendrils of cold ran their icy fingers under cloaks and jackets alike. And upon entering Azkaban itself, more than one sturdy auror lost their lunch.

Hung, like yesterday's meat, were the dead. Tongues hanging out, and eyes picked clean by Morrigan's crows, the auror devision was greeted by a parody of smiles stretched upon deaths lips. More than a few heads had been shoved onto pikes and crudely fashioned spears. Even Albus Dumbledore, renowned defeater of the Dark, bent down on his knees and emptied his stomach. All the while, blood splashed around the courtyard mockingly laughed at their weakness, inviting them into the horrors within. No one thought to check upon the forgotten prisoner, had they done so they would have found the bodies of Dementor's, dead and crumbling in front of what was Harry J. Potter's cell.

* * *

Harry stood in front of a large bay window, wrapped in stiffening robes, his blank eyes stared out over the icy landscape that was Malfoy manor. Movement behind him, stirred Harry from his thoughts. Turning, Harry watched as Severus stood, his face unlined and renewed in youth from the rejuvenation of new souls. Black eyes, cold with malice, slashed into Harry's own green ones.

"May Eris be with you, Hecate hold you in her arms and Nemesis govern you to darker goals." Snape said softly, lowering his eyes in submission. Harry smirked cruelly.

Snape had always been unlovely to look at, and therefore had always hated and sought the chaotic destruction of the world. And so, Eris found within him the love to match her own, Nemesis a field upon which to build her own desires and Hecate found that of a soul match love of poisons and potions. In return for his worship, the goddesses gave him true beauty and character, his skin became gold and toned, his features that of an ancient Greek, although keeping his height. His build became that of an Olympian, and was so beautiful he could be an Adonis sculpture. Stripping the years from his body, and granting him immortality and the ability to become as Nemesis' bearers shape, that of a Griffin or that of Hecate's hounds. Far more dangerous than a Cerberus, Hecate followed those dogs with a chilling howl and slavering jaws, of mad rolling eyes and icy breaths. These hounds ran for days without tiring, and their bite brought sheer agony. While Eris granted him the use of her golden apple; many plans featuring the apple were already spiraling through his mind as Severus toyed with the golden fruit.

Draco awoke next, and didn't say anything. It was more than slightly obvious who had taken his loyalty and worship. He smiled devilishly as he greeted his brethren with a mischievous smirk.

The Norse gods, having seen the life and loves of Draco Malfoy, had taken him and changed him to fit their will. No longer would the previously small, skinny blonde be at the tender mercies of Death Eater's or their ilk. Something that was clearly pleasing to the blonde man. Draco, once thin and skinny, was now tall, muscular with a shock of gold blonde hair and strong features that would make any Viking proud. His long fingered hands had lost none of their agility, but were now signed towards a proclivity of vengeance, destruction and mischief.

Loki, in one of his more mercurial fits, fixed Draco not only with immortality, like that of his companions, but also that of pure dark magic, something that would allow him to draw Fenrir's children Hati and Sköll to him, should he desire their help. And while not granted the ability to fully shape shift; Loki had granted Draco the shape of a horse, specifically his son, Sleipnir; Vali, in a fit of irony allowed Draco the form of a wolf, that which Vali himself had been bound too. Holler in a gesture of spite towards the Undeworld and her guardians, allowed Draco to take the form of Garm, the hound of the underworld, with his chest soaked of blood.

When Neville awoke he stood and walked out of the room, transfiguring his clothing as he went. His robes became a gold, blue and purple wrap that clung to his hips and a torque and headdress adorned his neck and head giving him an exotic look, added to by his newly changed features. He looked like a male version of Cleopatra, much to Severus' amusement.

Neville had been taken to task by the Egyption gods and goddesses, his pale skin became gold and his hair inky black. Square hands became delicate like a priests and he became thin and muscular. His features became slightly hooked and exotic, reflecting the gods desire to be worshiped by one of their own. Like all gods, Sakhmet and Set preferred to bestow what they considered to be beautiful to their favored human. Neville had, for all intents and purposes, had become the high priest of the Egyptian gods. Like the others, Neville was granted everlasting life in return for worship, although he was also graced with the ability to bring about the seven plagues of Egypt and more than a few other nasty curses. Neville had also been given the ability to shape shift into Set's favored shape of a Egyptian asp with black scales, and Sakhmet's preferred shape of a pale grey and black spotted Egyptian Mau.

Harry for his part was governed by Morrigan, Hades and Ereshkigal, and was torn between becoming as they desired. His features took on a rather clear Celtic cast, while his skin became as bronzed as a Sumerian, and his hair blacker and coarser than that of a Greeks. Like his partners, Harry became immortal, and his eyes once plain green became that of emeralds, a match for Serverus' obsidian, Draco's sapphire, and Neville's topaz eyes. His forms were that of a crow as directed by Morrigan, Hades chose that of his hellhound, Cerberus; Harry was uncertain whether to laugh or cry when he'd been informed of that. While, Ereshkigal, in her benevolent wisdom chose those of an owl and lion, Harry was unsure as to why she'd given him two forms, but he was determined to have fun with them.

That afternoon, after several hours of contemplation of their new gifts and powers, newly made immortals stood silently in the room, their thoughts that of vengeance and sacrifice and delighting their gods. Draco, as influenced by Loki, found that he was more inclined to trick his enemies via cunning and well thought out planning. While Severus fluctuated between poisoning and drawing from the legends of old, particularly with Eris muttering away in his ear. Neville for his part had his mind turned towards vicious curses and devilish plots, he was more than slightly tempted to use the First Son's Plague upon the wizarding world, knowing it would decimate the population of the pure blooded bigots. Harry watched his friends as they violently argued in behalf of their gods and goddesses, smirking to himself, he let out a piercing whistle, shutting them up instantly.

"Why not combine the plans?" Harry asked quietly. "Why not poison an apple and send it to trick Hogwarts. While Neville works on his curse, Severus can no doubt be of use to Draco, because frankly that idea of Loki's is brilliant. And I would love a blood bath, if that's okay."

Three minds thought the plan over, and three minds agreed to do as the fourth suggested. Harry felt mildly smug about their acquiescence.

* * *

Within three hours, the plan was sorted and in the middle of the Great Hall, a golden apple appeared upon a golden platter. It read, to Dumbledore's chargrin, "_To She Whom Is The Most Beautiful_". Chaos broke out. Above them all laughed Eris who smirked at her fellows and exclaimed:

"It works every time!"

Outside the Hogwarts Gates stood a quartet of animals; a raven that was ruffling its feathers in irritation as it perched upon a large white stallion. Beside the horse sat a hound that had its maw open in a wide, gaping grin. Next to the dog stood a fastidious grey and black spotted Mau with gold eyes. The recently returned from the place-beyond-the-veil Sirius Black, stumbled upon the odd assortment of animals and after a slight deliberation upon their apparent danger, brought them inside the wards. Like the Trojan horse of old, Sirius Black led the four most dangerous creatures to ever set foot on Hogwarts grounds into the Great Hall.

"Headmaster!" Black called out, cutting across the chaos that Eris' apple worked. Dumbledore looked up to see a horse with a crow perched upon its head and a cat curled up in Black's arms with a dog seated beside them, standing in the doorway to the Entrance Hall. Dumbledore was more than slightly startled.

"Sirius, what have you found?" Dumbledore asked surprised.

The dog dropped its mouth into a malevolent grin.

"I'm not sure, but I can't detect anything from them." Black replied.

Had anyone bothered to check with Hogwarts herself, they would have felt her tremble, as the wards against ill-intent began to crumble under the pressure of the disguised men's magical pressure; but wiser men than Albus Dumbledore had ignored her before, and now her silent cries went unnoticed.

"They're fine. Safe even." Dumbledore said calmly after throwing a few spells at the animals, Black looked relieved as he placed the cat upon the stallions back.

The crow cawed it's derisive laughter at the thought of he and his companion's classification of _safe_!

Black grinned. "So what happened here?"

The stallion shifted its weight as the spotted cat leapt down from his back, and with a anticipatory purr, positioned itself upon the teachers table.

"If I didn't know better, I swear Eris herself had been here!" Dumbledore replied unhappily, gesturing to the screaming mass of teenage girls who were fighting over the golden apple.

The beat of wings heralded the crows launch into flight; with a caw he landed upon the arches above the students and began to preen his feathers.

Black frowned. "Who is Eris?"

Padded paws wove through frantic legs, as Hecate's chosen slipped through the crowd, maneuvering himself next to the Headmaster.

"The Greek Goddess of Discord."

The stallion pawed at the ground, tossing his head, reminding Dumbledore suddenly of his Norse legends, particularly of Loki and Sleipnir; was that horse growing more limbs or was that just afigment of his imagination?

"I see." Black said as he watched the cat lazily clean its reddened paws.

Filled with a sense of foreboding, Dumbledore tried to locate the hound, eyes frantically searching the crowd.

"Sirius, where is the dog and crow?" Dumbledore asked.

Feathers drifted down from the rafters, as the crow above the students began to pluck them from his breast.

Black blinked. "The dog is beside you Headmaster, I think he likes you. And the crow is above the students... Why?"

Dumbledore leapt back, blue eyes wide as he took in the slavering jaws and maniacal eyes of Hecate's chosen.

"Sirius, try and escort as many students out as possible!" Dumbledore said frantically.

With a sense of inevitable finality, the doors thudded shut, framing a half-reared stallion, whom suddenly had nine legs and eyes filled with fire.

"_Sleipnir_!" Dumbledore whispered to himself, as Black swore black and blue in surprise.

An eerie howl of despair floated above the bickering crowd of girls, the sound raising the hairs on everyone's head and sending everyone into silence.

"Albus!" Black yelled pointing behind the scared Headmaster.

Dumbledore whirled around, eyes wide.

"Regards from Sakhmet and Set, Headmaster!"

There, upon the Head table, sat Neville Longbottom. Although he had changed, gold eyes, sleek skin and dark hair and exotic eyes. He was terrifying to look at.

"Over here, Albus..!" A malevolent voice drew out his name, and feathered wings brushed against his cheek.

"_Morrigan_!" Dumbledore groaned, falling to his knees, how could he have not recognized one of Morrigan's crows? As he looked down, he found himself staring at a pair of bare feet.

Looking up, Dumbledore was struck dumb by his potions masters new appearance.

Tall, thin, powerful, beautiful, Severus Snape stood arrogantly above the Headmaster. "Hecate sends her sincere death wishes!" Severus hissed, his obsidian eyes glowing. His eyes moved beyond the Headmaster and filled with devotion and admiration.

Spinning around, the Headmaster cried out with wordless shock. Darkness swirled before him and settled upon a glowing young man. Emerald eyes, tall, fit physique and legendary scar. It didn't take a genius to figure out who he was.

"_Harry!_" Black moaned, reaching out to his godson.

Harry gave a twisted grin. "Draco, deal with Black. Severus, Dumbledore. Neville, the Teachers. I get the students, I may even share with you if you're nice."

Instructions given, it very quickly deteriorated into a blood bath. Above them, Hades howled with laughter, ferrying the dead to his abode, new souls to absorb and live upon. He had chosen well when he'd picked Harry. Meanwhile, Harry whirled amongst the screaming children, terrified eyes rolled in heads and voices wailed. Blood stained the stones.

Draco played deliciously with his cousin, lightly slashing the man open with superficial wounds. This one wouldn't be going to Valhalla, no, there was a lovely spot reserved for Black in Helheim. Gliding with smooth confidence in contrast to Blacks hurried and panicked movements backwards; Draco caught Black and pulled him into a parody of a lovers embrace. Tightening his hold, he pulled him tight, shoving his erection into the pit of Blacks stomach. He dragged his tongue over Blacks cheek and long fingers wiggled their way into Black's stomach, while his other hand slipped into his pants and proceeded to rape him from behind. Blood eddied out of Black's pores as Draco wrenched Black's stomach open in one vicious movement, using his magic to keep the man both conscious and able to feel the pain inflicted upon him. Draco changed shape and in his wolf form, began to eat Harry's godfather, icy blue eyes glowing with pleasure.

"Draco, are you bored?" Harry cooed from his position over an eleven year old Ravenclaw that lay broken before him, blood swirled from the open mouth, nose and eyes. It was a horrific sight.

Draco hissed, white muzzle bloodied and teeth bared as he gaped his jaws over the mauled carcass of Sirius Black. Black was in no way completely dead yet, although he certainly wished he was. No instead he slipped in and out of consciousness, unable to truly understand what was happening to him.

"Come and join me Draco." Harry beckoned the white wolf over to him, his grin cruel and icy.

Draco's maw dropped open into a wolffish grin. He barked in indifferent agreement and shifting back to human shape, he walked away from the torn and bloodied body of Sirius Black, leaving the man to bleed out over the floor and spend his last minutes in absolute agony.

Severus had laid Dumbledore out and watched Draco work, and as the boy then began to eat he returned his attention to the old man in front of him. Even Severus drew the line at cannibalism, and really, it was just wrong watching the child he had helped bring up eat his, Severus', high school enemy. Thinking idly to himself as he stared down upon Albus' trembling body as it lay on the floor before him, bound and held magically. Smirking, course of action decided, Severus began to systematically break every bone in Dumbledore's hands, and feet. The pop, crack and snap of the fragile bones punctuated Dumbledore's screams.

Slightly bored after the round of torture, Severus then dragged his bony fingers down Dumbledore's body, in a horrifying mockery of a lovers caress. With the help of his goddesses magic, Severus aroused ancient flesh in such a way as hadn't happened in over fifty years. With a sadistic smile, Severus trailed his hand lower, causing Dumbledore to moan and twitch, whether from pain or pleasure was unknown, nor did he really care. Divesting the man of his robes, Severus then smirked and ripped Dumbledore's balls off. Dumbledore screamed, his eyes bulging from the pain and his back arched.

Dumbledore's scream drew the attention of Harry who laughed high, cold and cruel at the sight of Severus holding a bloody pair of bollocks in his hands with a vengeful snarl upon his lips.

Smirking at the young man whose laughter echoed across the hall, Severus eyed the now unconscious old man. Blood spewed from his ruined privates and numerous gashes on his arms, legs and torso. Conjuring a knife, Severus started to carve Dumbledore up, slicing flesh from bone and cutting unimportant protrusions off. Ears, nose, eyes, fingers, toes were all removed with fastidious skill. Sighing and regarding his work, Severus then decided he was bored, and left Dumbledore to bleed out over the floor while he went to seek better, fresher game.

Neville sneered in disgust at Severus' waste, but agreed that Dumbledore was far too weak to be fun. Yawning, Neville calmly broke Sprouts neck, muffling her cries of pain. Rolling his eyes, Neville took in the devastation. Draco had resumed his form of Garm with his chest soaked with blood and was hunting the children with Severus who was in the form of Hecate's hound, his unnerving wailing scaring the children into a mass panic. Blood splattered the walls, roof and floor. The once noble hall now resembled nothing more than a slaughterhouse floor.

Harry was seated on the Headmasters chair, one hand idly playing with a half eaten heart, whose it was, Neville didn't know. As the last of the screams were halted, the four men shared bloodied grins and then set about arranging the Hall as they thought was best. Many arguments later, the carnage decorated the walls, floors and roof. It was a masterpiece, in Harry's opinion.

Finally exiting Hogwarts, Draco pulled Neville into a kiss, rubbing his erection into his boyfriends arse. Harry growled in annoyance at their slowness and with a muttered oath filled retort after Draco's acid filled comment, stalked from the grounds and set his course for Malfoy manor. Severus sniggered as he followed his companions and thought back to the message Harry had left, it was amazingly arousing and funny.

* * *

Three days after the blood bath in the Great Hall, Hermione Weasley nee Granger arrived in the Headmasters office at twelve pm. She wandered down to the Great Hall, wondering at the silence and emptiness of the hallowed halls. Dismissing her fears, after all, it was lunchtime, she nearly skipped towards the Great Hall. As she neared the closed double doors, she wrinkled her nose at the smell of rotting meat. Clearly the House Elves weren't happy and were revolting against the status quo, she had warned Albus of that possibility when she'd pushed for the recent legislation for House Elves. Shrugging to herself, Hermione approached the door cheerfully. Pushing the doors open, it took all her strength not to scream or vomit from the sight that greeted her.

The Headmasters gold chair was placed upon the broken bodies of the student body. They were tumbled unceremoniously around and under the chair. The ones on the bottom were crushed and unrecognizable. The students near the top had their eyes picked out and were rolling free upon the floor. It was at this point that Hermione ran screaming.

When the Aurors returned, they saw everything Hermione saw, and unable to run like they wished too, they saw the rest.

Dumbledore was hung up in the middle of the Hall by a rope, his expression vacant. His mouth was open, tongue hanging out and eyes rolled up in his head. Dumbledore's chest was wrenched open, ribs sticking out bare and white against the red of his chest cavity. Added to that he was completely naked, his erection and missing testicles on show for the world to see. Dumbledore had barely an inch of him wasn't carved up either by knife or teeth. Most of the junior Aurors felt more than slightly ill at this point.

The staff members, the aurors found, were decorations along the back wall. Each one was nude and carved up to practically non recognition. The new head of Gryffindor, Sirius Black was gutted and his intestines spilled out from him. His expression was a rictus of pain, despite the more than obvious arousal. Horace Slughorn was hung upside down on a pentacle of blood, his chest carved up with Lucifers symbol. While Pomona Sprout had been flayed, and Sybil Trelawny burnt and branded with fraud writ on her head. The transgressions grew worse, and worse. Non bar Moody could continue after that point.

Spread out in tangled knots in the kitchens were the house elves. A seniors Auror by the name of Tonks found them while looking for a glass of water after vomiting her last three days worth of meals up. She was horrified to note that each one was dressed in a school uniform and horrifically damaged. Carved and defiled, it was not only a crime against humanity, but against the entire magical community. Not to mention just plain sick.

It was testament to the sheer horrible nature of the contents of the Great Hall that no one saw the message until much later.

They had been staggered by the sheer size of the horror. Each common room had been defiled by blood, feces, urine and semen. Graffiti in blood decorated the halls and corridors, and the classrooms didn't escape unscathed. The Headmasters rooms were the worse off. Painted in blood for the Headmaster himself, the portraits were shredded and destroyed, including the one of Godric Gryffindor. The magical community mourned the deaths of over a thousand individuals and the destruction of their school. It took close to a month to completely document everything within the school. Eventually after nearly a month, the message was found and read, leaving many with cold blood.

"_They couldn't run, they couldn't hide, times running out, the red heads are next_"

Shudders ran through the group and little attention was taken of the content. After all, it was an empty threat, the Weasley's were well guarded, they weren't in any danger. How they would wish they had taken it seriously.

* * *

Harry spent the month that the Aurors spent unravelling Hogwarts' worst murder case, developing poisons and curses with Severus and Neville. Draco spent his time idly making plans of destruction and chaos with the help of Loki and Vali; the two gods and one immortal had far too much fun with their hypothetical situations. Most of which were impossible, even with a gods magic.

* * *

So it was an entire month and a half after the message was written; a parcel arrived at the Burrow during Sunday dinner. Hermione, still shaken by what she had seen was the one to collect it and bring it inside. Handing it to her mother-in-law, Molly, Hermione seated herself next to her husband. Ronald Weasley hadn't changed since his school days, he still ate like a pig, he still was obsessed by Quidditch, then only thing that had changed was his physique. He was a lot thicker set than he had been, to Hermione's chagrin, Ron had used to be so handsome. In her opinion.

Molly Weasley opened the parcel with curious hands. As the parcel opened, a white powder spread out through the air, settling upon everyone. In glittering letters in the air above the package was written:

"_Hecate, Loki, Hades, Morrigan, Ereshkigal, Vali, and Set send their regards. Love Harry J. Potter._"

Everyone froze. And then chaos broke out, and there was a mass panic for the floo to St. Mungos.

Landing in the receiving area, it was Ginevra Weasley whom was first affected. Coughing violently from the smoke inhalation due to the floo travel, she was soon vomiting and coughing up blood. Screams echoed through the hospital as Molly Weasley was attacked next, bloated already from obesity, Molly then began swelling outrageously and after nearly three minutes of excruciating agony, popped like an over filled balloon. Blood, guts, fecal matter and all manner of unsanitary bodily fluids sprayed the room, covering everything with the foul juices.

Arthur stood next to the fire place, stunned, coated in his wife's bodily fluids; his mouth was open and Molly's blood clogged his mouth shut; so it took the now panicked nurses a full minute to realize the man was asphyxiating on Molly's life's blood. Cleaning the frozen mans trachea clear, the healer watched as the mans eyes rolled backwards and he began to have convulsions. His gasping cries haunted her as she tried to clear his airways free of the blood spewing from his stomach and lungs. It took him close to five minutes to die.

The twins died in each others arms, their terrified screams echoed and rebounded in the medical staffs ears for hours afterwards. They died the slowest, crying rivers of blood as their bones and organs liquified. It wasn't pretty. Ronald died the quickest, in an explosive reaction with a wall. Whatever was affecting the family removed his bones and left him in a rubbery mass in a crumpled heap on the floor, his head a pool of leaking brains on the ground.

Hermione first experienced the loss of her eldest child as the boy screamed himself to death, and then the loss of her second, unknown child through a miscarriage. In complete disparity, Hermione felt her skin grow tighter, and tighter and with a seemingly violent reaction, Hermione was turned inside out. The sight had the healers gagging in disgust and horror.

William died impaled upon a quill lying in the floor. It was the most bizarre death anyone had witnessed, but was concluded to owe to the fact that his body was turned parchment-thin and delicate. Charlie, on the other hand, was slowly turned to stone. His insides solidifying and slowly ceased to work. It was slow, painful and drove the young man insane. Percy, who hadn't been home, was found hung above his desk in his office. No one could recall seeing anyone entering or leaving the building, leaving the authorities baffled and fearful.

* * *

The days passed, and more murders occurred. Dean and Seamus Thomas were found pickled in barrels of wine, stained purple from the grapes. What made it even worse was that the wine had been a particularly superior vintage, and thus a waste. Or at least, so it was according to Draco and Severus; the public had been too horrified to actually crack jokes. Cornelius Fudge and Delores Umbridge were found nailed together in a rather compromising position. One that would have destroyed their careers had they been found at it whilst they were alive. Rita Skeeter was found in her animagus form in an entomological display in the British Museum. The only clue that it was actually her, was the description: "Rita S. Skeeter, Journalist, We Will Miss Your Delightfully Vicious Words". The muggles thought it had been a joke, and it hadn't been until a young man by the name of Payne, whom was a muggleborn, read the message and put two and two together.

The public was soon in a mass panic. An entire generation was dead. An upstanding light family had been massacred. A well known journalist had been found, eventually, deceased. And two high profile politicians were destroyed politically posthumously. As the months passed more deaths were discovered, soon the entire wizangamot, and everyone who was responsible for putting Harry Potter behind bars was dead. The only ones escaping the convicts wrath were the International Confederation of Wizards. Not that they'd last long.

As the death toll increased, so did the populaces hysteria.

And then suddenly, it ceased. For no discernable reason the death toll stopped rising, there were no more murders and there were no more terrifying messages left in strange places. It baffled and confused everyone, not that anyone complained, too many were simply relieved to escape alive.

* * *

Harry, Draco, Neville and Severus sat on top of Azkaban prison, now delightfully vacant, and sipped champagne. The British wizarding world was collapsing and it was sweet, sweet music to their ears. In their unhinged minds, their patron gods and goddesses whispered frightful plans and idea. Plans of torture, death, terror, carnage, and bloody destruction. The four men laughed crazily, their eyes wild with blood lust, they were enjoying themselves far too much to regret their actions.

It was soo much fun, they cried within their minds, they were lawless, free and able to drink the blood of the ones who wronged them. What wasn't to love?

Behind them a cold north wind blew, freezing their bones and chilling their souls. The sky was a steel grey and the building they sat upon was muted in the half-light. On the main land the trees and grasses dipped in the wind and waved to the breeze, below them the wind whipped waves slapped the shore and crashed against the rocks. It was a spectacular backdrop for the death of the British wizarding world, and eventually the entire international wizarding world itself.

Harry leaned back into his chair, a pleased and perverse smile danced upon his lips. "I have wrecked my revenge. All I have left are the ICW wizards and witches. But they will be easy enough to catch and maul."

Severus laughed maliciously from his position next to the green eyed man. "What shall we do after that?" He asked, his voice thick with desire for blood. His black eyes slashed into Harry's green ones. Harry bared his teeth in fiendish glee, garnering the attention of Draco and Neville.

"_Do_? _DO_?!" Harry asked angrily, agitatedly, gleefully, savagely. Laughing as he suddenly bounced up, throwing the champagne away, the glass shattering against the stone of the roof top, the champagne spattering the air and ground. Spinning around, Harry held his arms wide in victory.

"We will _rule_ the world! Bathe in blood _every single day!_ And _delight_ in the glory of our _immortality_!"

Harry's insane shrieks and yells bounced off the stone rocks into the uncaring grey sky. Behind him his friends laughed sadistically, their eyes as crazed as his own. Beneath them the world trembled in fear at the death and carnage the quartet were going to exact upon the people's of the world.

Life was good when you were insane, free and had company.


End file.
